You are all the letter we need, a letter written on our heart; any man can see it for what it is and read it for himself. And as for you, it is plain that you are a letter that has come from Christ, given to us to deliver. 2 Cor. 3:2, 3, N.E.B.

When Paul came to Corinth and established the church, he had no letters of recommendation from the church leaders at Jerusalem. When challenged on this point, he replied that his converts were his epistle of commendation. He had living epistles to show for his work. These converts could be read and known of all men. This should be sufficient.

One of the most effective arguments for the Christian faith is the Spirit of the living God in the lives of believers. They are living epistles to the world, to all men.

What does Christ seek to write on our hearts and minds and in our lives? That we are reconciled to God, that we love one another, that we value the best things in life, that we have the mind of Christ. So when people read our lives, they see that God loves them and will forgive them. Christ Communicates these truths to the world through us. He writes our love of righteousness, our trust in God, our love for people. We are Christ's epistles, written by Him, read and known of all men. Each of us is a separate living epistle, a center of light, shedding brightness and warmth, cheerfully, loyally, persistently, unceasingly, round an ever-widening circle.

During the second world war an air pilot was shot down while flying over one of the islands in the South Pacific. He bailed out and as he drifted down he wondered what kind of reception he might receive. He had heard of cannibals living on these islands. He landed in rough terrain and broke both his legs. The natives found him and carried him in a sheet back to the village. On the sheet he saw printed the name of a missionary society. He learned that years before, a missionary had come there, a loving, living epistle. Under his Christlike ministry the people of the island became Christians. The missionary had died and was buried there. When the pilot recovered, he walked out to the cemetery. On the tombstone the natives had written these words: "When he came there was no light. When he died there was no darkness."